


we could move in it and i'd soon forget

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim looks at him, gives some ghost of a smile that Roy <em>hates</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we could move in it and i'd soon forget

"God," Tim says. Roy finds him in the bathroom before noon, standing in front of the mirror and making faces at himself. "I washed my hair twice and I think there's still glitter in it."

Roy ruffles Tim's hair. "You _like_ glitter." Roy swears Tim has a shampoo that _puts_ glitter in your hair.

"Yeah," Tim says. He bats Roy's hand away, raises his eyebrow at him in the mirror. "But not when I'm going to see my parents."

"Your -" Roy kind of forgets, half the time, that Tim _has_ actual parents. It's easy to see why - the rest of them are orphans, and Steph might as well be. It's easy to forget just _why_ Tim started living here.

" _Why_?" Roy asks, before he can think better of it, and sure enough Tim tenses up like someone just suggested _Twilight_ was literature.

"Doesn't matter," Tim says. He wipes day-old eyeliner out from under his eyes and scoots past Roy out of the bathroom. Roy follows him, watches Tim slip on a pair of jeans that don't have tears or Sharpie marks on them, a collared shirt and shoes so boring Roy didn't think he _owned_ anything like them.

"Tim," Roy says. "Talk to me?"

"You and I are working tomorrow instead," Tim says, not looking at him. "Jay and Dick agreed to switch."

Roy didn't remember he worked today, anyway. "Okay," he says. "But -"

Tim walks out into the living room, grabs his keys out from under the coffee table where they fell last night when Roy shoved him against the arm of the couch and fucked him so hard Roy's pretty sure they broke something.

"I could come with," Roy offers. "You know, with me there they wouldn't even -"

Tim looks at him, gives some ghost of a smile that Roy _hates_. He leaves without saying a word.

 

*

 

Roy's asleep on the couch when Tim comes back, stumbling in his dress shoes like Roy's never seen him do in three-inch platforms. He can't figure out why, at first, until he realizes Tim is crying, muffled little sniffles that get louder once Tim kicks off his shoes and jeans.

"Hey," Roy says. He moves toward Tim, taking his hand and pulling him back toward the couch. "I really hope you're crying because you're so happy that they're going to give you thousands of dollars to make up for being assholes." He doesn't know the whole story of how Tim ended up here, but he knows _enough_ of it.

"Roy…" Tim starts.

"Think of all the drugs we could afford then," Roy says. Tim curls up in his lap, rests his head on Roy's shoulder. "Guess it's true what they say. Money _does_ corrupt."

"Moron," Tim says, but he's not crying anymore. "I was so _stupid_ ," Tim says. "I always blamed my stepmom, like - like if my mom was still around, they'd be real parents or something. Don't know why I care anymore."

"'Course you care," Roy says. He kisses Tim's forehead. "You think any of us wouldn't kill for that, too? Well, maybe not Steph. She'd probably rather just take a swing at her dad, but y'know…" That gets a smile out of Tim, and Roy tugs his hair a little. "Hey," he says. "You wanna get drunk and make prank calls to the store?"

Tim snorts. "We can't," he says. "Jay blocked both our numbers, remember?"

"That he did, the clever little bastard," Roy says, grinning. "But _I_ stole his phone last night. I _was_ just going to use it to post compromising pictures on Facebook and stuff, but…"

Tim laughs, sitting up a little and _beaming_ at him. His eyes are still a little red and it's weird seeing him without a hint of make-up, no product in his hair. "Jesus, Roy," Tim says. "I -" he cuts himself off, leans forward and kisses Roy instead, soft and sweet like when they do a little too much ecstasy.

They get drunk, and ruin Jason's night, and Roy fucks Tim against the couch again, breaking the other arm this time instead. At least now everything's balanced.

"You _can_ actually talk to me, you know," Roy says, when he's inside Tim, his hand curled around Tim's dick while he slams into him. "I'm not - I'll _listen_."

"Yeah," Tim says. He pushes back against Roy, hisses when Roy bites at the back of his neck. Tim's still wearing the dress shirt, white cotton brushing Roy every time he thrusts in. "I know. But I'd rather let you fuck me."

"Fine," Roy says. "But next time I'm coming with."

"Gonna - unh - terrorize my parents, Roy?" Tim asks. He shoves into Roy's hand until he comes, and when Roy brings his sticky hand up Tim takes it and wipes it on the shirt.

"'s only fair," Roy says. "I'd wear my best dirtbag outfit for 'em and everything." He slams into Tim another half dozen times before he comes, and when he pulls back Tim turns to look at him. "Works for me," he says. He looked like he was about to say something else entirely, but Roy lets it go.


End file.
